Our Rift in Life
by TheOneYouCallWe
Summary: Ken Murata, an impossibly cheerful Great Sage. Yuuri Shibuya, a courageous and headstrong Mazoku. Two teenagers with their lives on the line. KenxYuuri. 27 Drabbles or Oneshots.
1. Chapter 1

Personal Policies

One: For those who aren't familiar at all with our DNAngel drabble set 'It's a Walk in the Park' (We're not whoreing out our work, we swear) this style of introductions-ish is typical. I'm One.

We: And I'm We. Of course. We're the authroess-es. Kind of. Like split personalities, but…yeah. So we often confuse singularities.

Notes: Hints of ShinouxGreat Sage (Murata in the past?), major ConradxYuuri hints, slight WolframxYuuri hints, and of course, much MurataxYuuri. Possible OOC-ness, as Ken's personality isn't very drawn out in the anime, even(but I still love him. x3)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

* * *

Ken Murata was not one for typical logic. He had his own way of doing business, with his own grace, and his own non-existant humility. Ken Murata was not one to follow suit in other's advice. He had his own mantras to which he abided by completely. Ken Murata was not one for expressing emotions--the emotions he _wanted_ to--easily. 

…he had no excuse for that.

**_ooooooo_**

A long time ago, he had a picture frame that had 'You are **successful** at life' inscribed on it. It was simple, and cheap, but he treasured it…until the day Yuuri accidentally spilled water on it and ruined the picture _and_ frame, also transporting the two of them to Shin Makoku (Ken really hated Shinou's methods of 'transportation'). During his entire stay in the alternate realm then, all that was on his mind was the picture frame.

Why was it so important?

It was a rare picture he had managed to capture on night while Yuuri was avoiding his absurdly clingy fiancée. Yuuri had been curled up in a blanket, asleep against the wall and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Seeing as it was Ken's equally rare visit, he had immediately hunted down a camera (he kept a secret one on hand at all times) and caught on film one the most adorable Mazokus yet.

It was then when _everything_ became much more complicated.

**_ooooooo_**

Wolfram loved Yuuri. Yuuri loved Conrad. Conrad love gosh-knows-who. It was a cliché, over-used love-triangle and it thoroughly irked Ken. It went against his policy to become involved in cliché, over-used things _(especially_ love triangles). So of course, he made it a point to **never** give Yuuri the slightest hint of anything other than friendly being directed towards him.

Besides, Yuuri and Conrad were a _much_ better couple.

_"Why do you have such a grudge against yourself?"_ Shinou's voice snapped Ken out of his dream-like trance.

"I do?"

_"Yes._ _You refuse to believe that the Mazoku could ever possibly have emotions for you besides friendship. Why is that?"_

Murata's smirk was wide, and conniving. "Shouldn't **you** know that, O Great One?"

**_ooooooo_**

"What did you _tell_ them, Murata?"

"That I was going to visit, of course!" Ken often became tiresome of referring to one another by their family names--it felt too formal for him.

Yuuri laughed his infectious laughter, his dark eyes glittering with a hope and strength only one as noble and kind-hearted as he could possibly retain. His smile was illuminating, already lightening everything in the castle to a vivid color.

"So…why **are** you visiting?"

"You."

"Wh-what?"

He cursed to himself at his slip-up. "I came to see how the Great Maou was doing." He spoke dramatically, hoping to make up for any confusion.

Of course, Yuuri didn't buy it (he was sharper than others believed him to be). "Ken…"

…now _that_ was unexpected. Sure, Yuuri occasionally called him by his birth name, but never in such a tone of voice--oh lovely! Now he was beginning to sound like Günter!

"I'll be back soon, Yuuri." His words were rushed as he quickly (but stealthily) fled to the door. He had just about reached the door handle when he was snatched back; he didn't _dare_ turn around for fear of Yuuri's pleading 'kicked-puppy look' (who could possibly deny someone _that_ cute?)

"You've been acting really weird lately--weirder than usual," Murata was normally quite odd anyways, "what's up? You're my friend."

Murata grit his teeth, an usual expression crossing over him. "That's just _it,_ Yuuri." He ignored any possible formalities; his fate was sealed. "I know Weller's been with you since before you even _existed,_ but I've been there for as long as you can **remember,** maybe even longer." His voice was even, and he refused to admit to any childish emotions. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and trying his damndest to **not look at Yuuri.**

"Well heck, why didn't you say so?"

…say what?

Again, Yuuri's smile was infectious, but even more so than usual. It was positively _blinding_, causing Murata to wince and shy away from the light of it.

"Sure, you can be kind of maniacal at times, but you have been there a while. Hell, we didn't even become friends really, until this whole 'Maou' thing started! You're a great guy and a whole lot more courageous than I could ever be, and uh…" He trailed off, not entirely liking how Murata was looking at him. "Ken…?"

**_ooooooo_**

Ken Murata was a very independent teenager. He lived only by his rules, and his rules alone (not including those of Shinou and Yuuri). He did not _like_ when others would interfere with the guard he had set around him.

Yuuri had caused a noticeable rift in the barrier of peace that continued to grow, though. From the moment memories of his past life began to return to him, everything was set and in place. Everything was according to how Shinou planned it.

"You're sadistic, you know that?"

_"Alright, so I used you--and the Maou, too--to land The Great Sage. Kind of. You're happy, aren't you?"_

"…you're still a sadist."


	2. Chapter 2

Of Fate

One: This myth actually isn't used too often, and I also altered it for KKM purposes. So we _will_ be keeping up with these. : )

We: _The jig is up, the news is out, they finally found me._

One: Dude, We. Shut up. No Styx, understand?

Notes: 'Red String of Fate' myth altercation, MurataxYuuri, passing off Doria and Ulrike as fangirls, etc. etc. OOC-ness still possible, but less chance than last time. Shounen-ai.

**_Notes2: NO LINE BREAKS, WTF._** The '----------' is a new page break, and the **_'ooooooo'_** is of course, a line break for between seperate scenes.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Renegade' by Styx which has virtually nothing to do with the tale, the 'red string of fate' myth (altered version I **do** own), or Kyou Kara Maou!

----------

To treasure.

She treasures them all, her fathers, their lovers, their loves.

To treasure.

**_ooooooo_**

"Anissina-kun! I want to make another doll, please." Greta chirped happily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. In her hands was a long string of nylon (also knows as "yarn", as those on Earth call it) she fiddled with continuously.

Anissina smiled at the girl, reflecting on how she had grown and matured, through Yuuri's own bravery.

"What do do you wish to make?"

"Umm…" Greta glanced around the stuffy at the abundant amount of plushies--of humans and animas alike. "Ken-chan!"

Anissina blinked. "Geika?"

"Mm-hmm! Yuu-chan needs a close friend, right?"

Anissina considered explaining to her that Yuuri already had quite the close friend in the Great Sage (although _neither_ would admit to it) but shook of the absurd notion as Doria's and Ulrike's influence. "Of course, Greta."

**_ooooooo_**

Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.

"I'm bored." Yuuri sighed, tossing the frayed baseball just slightly higher into the air, and it caught in the canopy of the bed (where a small hill of baseballs was beginning to form). He grumbled, not finding it worth the strenuous effort to search for another.

"I'm bored." He muttered again.

"Then how about a Shin Makoku carnivale?"

"Murata!" Yuuri jumped up from the massive bed, running smack into the bedpost. Murata sighed and supported the dazed Mazoku on his shoulder.

He muttered a soft, "Almost 2 years, and still such a child."

"I am **not** a child!"

**_ooooooo_**

"Greta…what are you doing with that string?" Anissina asked warily as the girl absently tied and untied the string. Greta every so once in a while glanced apprehensively at the two dolls sitting side by side, but she would immediately go back to biting her lip and nervously fiddling with the string.

"Conrad told me about this legend from where Yuu-chan came from, and that Shin Makoku has its own version, too."

"Oh?"

"If you tie a red string of nylon onto two people's thumbs, their love will last forever…" her voice faded off embarrassedly.

Anissinsa smiled gently to herself at Greta's obvious awkwardness. She had grown much--emotionally, physically, mentally--over the past two years, and could easily predict and sense what was best for her fathers (she still considered Wolfram her father, even if he and Yuuri had broken off their engagement some 6 months ago). Without a word, Anissina took the fraying string and tied it securely around the two doll's thumbs.

"They'll be happy, Greta."

**_ooooooo_**

Yuuri stopped short as he felt a chill and an abrupt jolt go through him, focused mainly in his left arm. "What the hell?"

"Shibuya?"

"Nothing, nothing…hey, Murata, let's go on the…er, the thing that looks like a ferris wheel."

"You'll never adjust to Shin Makoku, will you?"

"Hey! I resent that!"


	3. Chapter 3

Alone, and Lonely

One: I still need to write my first lemon…

We: Someday, One. Someday.

Notes: Lime-ish. MurataxYuuri, kind of PWP.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

----------

It all began with a simple, unrelated dream of vagueities and completely unorthodox. Gripping, straining, shoving, breathing, all so undistinguishable. He could not feel more than the brush of bangs by his cheek, the whisper of newcomings beside his ear, and a warmth irresistible.

Please tell me, what is it that I dream of?

**_ooooooo_**

"You write a lot in your journal." Half-hearted, Wolfram scrolled through the faded, ragged, simple black journal, completely ignoring Yuuri's shouts of indignancy. He chuckled to himself at a particularly amusing entry ("Oh, I remember when this happened…") and kept a flailing Yuuri _just barely_ out of reach. "What's this of dreams, Yuuri?"

"Mmppgmh!"

"I can't understand you; speak up."

Yuuri bit at Wolfram's hand. "It's about this weird dream I've been having lately. I'm not sure what it's about even, it's just…there's this immense, comforting heat around him, and darkness, and that's all I can distinguish. I also hear the clink of metal, like glasses or something," a slight twitch went through Wolfram, "but I'm not sure…"

Wolfram sighed. He idly considered punching Yuuri for being such a dunce--after their initial break-up, he thought he'd never recover, but here the two of them were, conversing civilly. "What do _you_ think it is?" He spoke quietly, as the conversation had drastically taken a darker turn, one that should not be discussed outside these oaken doors. Wolfram fiddled with his ear--like how the residents of Earth would sort of rub their nose--and stared at Yuuri sternly.

"Uhm…" He wasn't entirely comfortable with confiding in Wolfram about this, but he most certainly couldn't confide to Conrad, or Murata, so he'd best live with it. "I think it's like…meandsomeonehavingsexmaybeIdon'treallyknowit'sjustaguessbutIreallythinkitis."

"Could you repeat that in a language I can understand?"

"I think it's…m-me and someone…having…"

"Maritals?"

Yuuri nodded his head vigorously. "Yeah. That. I'm just guessing at it, and I'm not intelligent like you and Murata, but…"

"Do you believe it is Ken?"

"Wh-**what?.!** No! Murata's my best friend--I could never do th-that with _him!"_

"Why not?"

His mouth opened quickly, stayed as that for a few seconds, then slowly shut. Truth be told, Yuuri wasn't _sure_ why; the proposition of having **sex** with **Murata** was an entity all to itself. "I-I…er…" He settled with a maddened blush, and dashing out the room, screaming his apologies loudly.

"So _so_ dense…"

**_ooooooo_**

"Heika, is there something on your mind?"

"No, no; I'm fine Conrad…really." Conrad already worried enough, and had many issues; he needn't anymore because his dear Heika was questioning the relationship between himself and Ken Murata.

Conrad's warm hand landed softly on his shoulder, concern embedded in his gaze. "Heika…you may tell me whatever you like--anything at all. Is it about a love interest of yours?" His gaze was unwavering, not changing in the slightest at the prospect of Yuuri emotionally liking someone as more than a friend (as Yuuri considered everyone "friends", no matter what).

"Well, you see, I…n-nevermind, Conrad! I'll uh…see you later!"

**_ooooooo_**

Yuuri finally stopped against a wall, controlling his breath to a steady flow. He had run so far and over such a long distance…but what was he running from? The concept of having sex with _Ken?_ Why was it so disturbing to him?

"I just don't understand anything anymore…" He moaned to himself, face in hands. Tears were just waiting to flow down, but he fought them off, making sure to not end up sobbing hysterically. For what reason, even he did not know…

A soft whisper sounded beside him. "Shibuya…?" His head jerked up. _I recognize that voice…_ Frightened, he slowly turned towards the other, and was confronted with the pillar of his problems: Ken Murata, innocently staring at him, head tilted just slightly, innocence all written into his solid dark eyes, behind those adorably dorky glasses, and oh shit Wolfram was **right.**

They were _all_ right! Everyone who had mentioned about how close he and The Great Sage were completely right, he had simply been too stubborn to admit the truth… Sobbing hysterically, Yuuri buried his head into Murata's shoulder, not caring if the tears leaked onto his shirt. Murata rose a hesitant hand to his back, and softly coaxed him; calmed him through barely stroking his back and murmuring soothing words of reassurance, no matter how fake they sounded.

**_ooooooo_**

Shortly after Yuuri's emotional breakdown, the sage had led him to Murata's own bedchambers, still slightly worried at the occasional sniffle, and the vaguely-puffy, slightly-bloodshot eyes. It was very unorthodox for Yuuri to simply bawl like that, and he had a vague idea--although it felt more as of "wishful thinking".

"Shibuya?" He peered at the forlorn king through his bangs, offering a small cup of hot cocoa. It helped to calm his own nerves, perhaps it would help Shibuya as well…

"Please, Murata. I have to tell Conrad to just call me "Yuuri", do I have to tell you too?"

"Then go ahead and call me Ken." He chuckled warmly as Yuuri took a sip of the cocoa, and nearly choked on how hot it was. "Should I have warned you; it's quite hot, very fresh." He leaned a bit closer, and fanned the heat waves to a minimum, blowing at it barely. He made it a point to not look up at Yuuri, lest he do something…foolish.

That feeling, deep within the pits of his stomach, like a lawnmower going over sand, or a cat scratching at raw stone; that horrid, shuddering feeling that jangled and jarred through your system, leaving you quaking and craving for more--this emotion piled within Yuuri, and he gnashed his teeth against any words to be spewed from his mouth.

Murata waited a few minutes in the silence and peace, before speaking again. "Shi--Yuuri…what's troubling you?" _Do you want me to worry so?_

Yuuri had been mentally combating the beast within him, and almost lost the battle because Murata had spoken. "Huh?" was the best response he could come up with in such a short amount of time, included with agape-mouth and the innocently confused eyes.

Another laugh came from Murata; oh how childish his king could be. "I asked what's bothering you."

The mood suddenly became much more serious, and Yuuri just wished for the carefree emotions to magically float back inside beside them. Heartfelt emotions were hard to deal with…when the one they were about, was seated right next to you.

"I…can't say."

"Why not?"

"…" He was afraid, so very afraid to tell the other of his own plights; his curse, to call it. Love was not to be taken lightly, which he learned valuably from the initial separation of him and Wolfram. "It's something…confidential. So confidential, I can't let you or Conrad know…"

"Are we so untrustworthy?"

Alarmed, Yuuri's head jerked back in Murata's general direction. His eyes widened as he near-yelled, "No; that's not it at all! It's only me… I'm just scared of what any recurrences of my actions will be… how could I have…"

Hurriedly, Murata again soothed the Maou, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's stomach loosely. "Yuuri," the sound of his voice so close to his ear was breathtaking, and Yuuri trembled slightly, "Whatever it is you are involved in; no matter what it is…you'll always be accepted. You know that…I know that…Conrad knows that…"

"But I…"

"Just tell me, Yuuri."

And Yuuri broke. All previous insecurities of his affections for the Sage were vanquished quickly, and only let him with a burning, raw need that was rapidly taking him over. He was quite glad for Murata's distance, as Yuuri may have scared the other off with how much passion was enveloped in his own eyes.

"Murata…you need to let go of me soon…" He tried to warn, but Murata was beginning to collapse against his shoulder, arms tightening around Yuuri's midsection. His hair was limping against his forehead; eyes slowly shutting. Murata…was falling asleep.

"You need to wake up, Ken." Murata mumbled something incomprehensible into his shoulder. "Ken…really, wake up." Yuuri growled and nudged at his companion, softly shifting him around until Murata's glasses accidentally fell off. "Ken…if you don't wake up, I have to do something drastic. _Very_ drastic, and you may not wish to be near--"

As swift as the wind, Murata had his own mouth clamped over Yuuri's; soft, but tinted with a hidden intention. He drew back, those mischievous dark eyes glinting so darkly and…sinisterly. "You couldn't possibly have imagined me to be quite as dense as yourself, _Heika."_

Everything simply melded from there. Ken was fumbling clumsily with the buttons on his and Yuuri's outfits, sweat pooling down his forehead. He shook his head wildly in an almost animalistic way, and licked at his now-quite salty lips.

It was the most erotic thing Yuuri had ever seen. True, he hadn't seen _much,_ but there was that one time back in 7th grade with the--

Ken could see that Yuuri was distracted and clamped himself onto the nearest available piece of skin available--Yuuri's jaw. A trembling gasp hummed through Yuuri, vibrating against Ken's hot, slick mouth. He gasped as the last button accidentally snapped off, and Ken was given free access to yet _more_ Yuuri-skin.

A brief interlude came through as Yuuri gently massaged the skin beneath Ken's glasses, them carefully carelessly flung to the soft carpet floor. Naught a word had been spoken, and Ken finally uttered a thick, "Yuuri…". They were both quite aware of what was to occur, and he needed reassurance. A steady gaze, and those gentle, caressing hands to abruptly drag them together once again, was all that he needed.

**_ooooooo_**

"Mission accomplished, sir." An unruly-haired soldier saluted, the frills in his dark blue uniform bouncing in the wind. His eyes were unblinking, even as the blonde mazoku dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Wolfram grinned connivingly, opening the maryoku-powered camera linked to Yuuri's bedroom once again. He began laughing softly, but it steadily gained volume until it was a rather maddened level, his head thrown back and still cackling. Perhaps it was the recent influence of Yozak, or the relationship between himself and Conrad, that had warped him so.

…or perhaps it was simply payback time for Yuuri.


	4. Chapter 4

Letter, Letter on the Wall...

One: You crazy. 8D

We: MurataxYuuri fans are insane. There's no questioning it, they just are.

Notes: Love confession--maou style. 8D MurataxYuuri, hints of ConradxYuuri cuddle-mazokus, eating rugs, white letters…

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Part 1 of 2.

"Hach!" a bleary, sick-ridden sneeze ricocheted throughout the king's chambers. Yuuri sniffled miserably and hastily decided against crying like a child--in was only a measly _cold _(or so Wolfram had berated him).

"A cold, that's all…" He mumbled and lazily fell--er, slid out of the bed, ending up with a mouthful of white rug and an eyeful of tile. He sighed and himself up from the cold flooring, and came nose-to-nose with a white, blank, letter. Dumbfounded, he gaped at it.

His eyes skimmed over the side visible to him, searching for any sort of address (did Shin Makoku even **have** addresses?) or a notice with a name, or **some** way of identifying the sender and/or receiver--didn't want to jump to conclusions of it being his.

"Heika! Heika, it is time for your…" Günter burst in, but stopped, still as stone at the sight of his kind of his haunches.

"It's a love letter, Heika." Conrad murmured, flipping the letter on its back and front. Günter had left some time ago, to attend to other matters (oh Gwendal, Gwendal). Yuuri however, was baffled and gawked at the brunette and the 'letter'.

Conrad sweatdropped at the adorably confused maou. "Heika…in Shin Makoku, when one delivers you a white blank enveloped with no name whatsoever, it contains a love letter…from a male. Females' are in grey."

"A g-guy? A **guy** sent me a love letter?"

"Yes, Heika."

"But…why me?"

A cheerless expression Passover Conrad, alarming Yuuri--to an extent.

"Conrad…?"

Conrad kneeled before his king, his 'Master'; solemnly controlling and containing his emotions. "Heika… there are many reasons why one would would…" he swallowed uncertainly, "love you. You are gentle, gracious, genuinely caring, forgivi…" Conrad's voice caught at the fear showing in Yuuri's eyes.

"I apologize; I was out of line." Abruptly, Conrad stood and faced away from the maou. The tension was still felt throughout the room, but it had lessened a great deal with the break of eye contact. Nervously, Yuuri left the room, love letter in hand as Conrad mournfully stalked off in the opposite direction.

Neither looked back.

**_ooooooo_**

"Who could love me, though? I'm not special; not really…" he asked himself as he curled into the comforter on his bed. Gisela had commanded it, lest their precious maou grow only more ill. He sighed into the warm, fluffy pillow, the comfortable heat to his side, and the sweet spicy scent of Murata's hair.

…

"Murata, why are you in my bed." Murata was wrapped around him, he knew, hence why Yuuri could easily smell Murata's cinnamon tangerine shampoo and feel his body heat. Ken ignored Yuuri's statement-question and snuggled closer, if at all possible. He murmured quietly to himself and opened one sleepy, bleary eye.

"You finally came back…"

"Uh…sure…I guess. Why are you here?"

Ken yawned cutely and slung an arm around Yuuri's midsection.

"No heat."

"Say what?"

"There's no heating. It's July."

Oh, of course! It had completely slipped Yuuri's mind: in Mazokuland (as Yuuri so dubbed it) July was December and December was July. He tried to stay inside during July, lest his toes freeze off in the in the cold snow.

"Why me then?"

Ken shrugged, "You were available. And you're warm."

"But I'm sick."

"You think that matters? I wouldn't mind being sick, if it means I'm…warm…" He hesitated in his words, careful to not reveal too much of his intentions. Murata gave a disappointed sigh, his breath just brushing over Yuuri's collarbone. So close, and yet so distant…

"Hey, Murata…do you know of anyone who'd be 'interested' in me?"

"Plenty of people would, actually." Murata immediately jumped onto the subject, "Lots of reasons why someone would want you for his or her own." Murata propped himself up on his elbows, staring down at Yuuri. "You're a genuinely kind person, gentle at heart, gracious in your own clumsy way…" He had begun off, but was met with silence. Worriedly, he paused in his words and gave the other a cautious glance.

The king, however, was bewildered. He was trying his absolute damndest to rationalize; his memory was quite clear of Conrad's words and expression, and found it so similar to Murata's, so very similar…yet, the fear he had felt was not there, but instead an exotic, unnerving emotion, nameless, and without recognition. It felt as if electricity was surging through his veins.

"Shibuya?"

"Murata…what is…this feeling? It's like…furtive, but tranquil, and kind of gregarious… I-I don't know. Forget it." Yuuri gradually lost the heat in his voice, it fading to a mere dull mumble. He curled once again into, but facing away from Murata.

Sleep overcame him, Murata's warmth against his back.

**_ooooooo_**

"You've another letter." That it was. Upon his nightstand lay a crisp, unwrinkled envelope, sealed to perfection. "Where will you hold them? Have you even bothered to read them?" Flynn was on a visiting trip from Shimaron, and been 'informed' of the recent love affair news. Curious as to Yuuri himself's reaction, she had quietly snuck in and discovered a half-dead, shell-shocked maou, whom was squatting on the ornate white rug, staring at the yet another letter. "Yuuri…?"

Yuuri, however, had woken to a cold, empty bed, wondering just why the hell he felt so lonely; longing for someone, or something. Flipping over onto his stomach, he depressively studied the bland layout of his room, not paying much mind to anything except the--yet again--crisp white envelope containing someone's declaration of. He had collapsed, flabbergasted, onto the rug--again.

"Do you know who it is from?" Flynn tried again to break Yuuri of his stupor, almost preparing to begin poking the boy repeatedly.

"Mnngh?" Yuuri's answer was half-hearted and groggy, and she swore she heard his head creak when he turned to look at her.

Sometimes life felt as a comedy routine, her companions were so absurd.

"Do you know who has sent the letters?"

"No, I don't. I haven't even opened them."

"Why have you not?"

"I'm…kind of scared." Often, Shin Makoku would forget their leader to be a mere boy; awkward and controlled entirely by his hormones. Sympathetically, she focused in on his emotions. "I mean, I can't imagine anyone--besides Wolfram--who'd be interested in me. I've already asked Conrad and Murata, but they gave me the same answer." He bit his tongue harshly, drawing blood, to stop himself from inadvertedly blushing; it was merely the how of their responses which unnerved him.

"You will open them when you wish to know, Yuuri."

"Someday; I don't want to end up in a 'curiosity killed the maou' situation."

**_ooooooo_**

(Three Weeks Later)

Starting by the 19th letter out of 47 so far, Yuuri had designated a storage for his amassing love letters--unauthorizedly, of course. It was opened by a secret latch (he had **demanded** the maou in him create it) behind his headboard. The room itself was small; scarcely the size of his closet on Earth. To light the darkness, he would use a candle and cautiously close the doorway.

Why did he keep the room so secret? For fear. In fear of his enemies discovering his gradual infatuation with a mystery-unknown-love-letter-writer. At night, he would imagine whom it could be, and yet each thought frightened him. His two main suspects were Conrad and Murata, for their responses of reason why to love him.

Gwendals' influence on Yuuri was gradually strengthening. He was becoming so paranoid, it was uncanny.

Occasionally the maou in him would communicate his opinions on the matter--quite loudly and obscenely, in fact. Ridiculous demands, they were; to allow one entire day with the maou having complete control. (Despite his dark appearances, the maou-Yuuri was quite…moronic. He and Yuuri was more alike than they--or anyone else--believed.)

"I want to know…who you are." It had been over 2 weeks, and the concept was driving Yuuri insane. The letters were piling and piling; he was falling and falling--and he feared them. He feared them and he loved them and he just wanted out!

"Yuuri…?" "Yuuri…!"

(TBC)


	5. Chapter 5

…Why Can I Not See You?

One: This fic was becoming maddening, it was taking so long to write.

We: So it became a two-parter.

Notes: Love confession--maou style. 8D MurataxYuuri, hints of ConradxYuuri cuddle-mazokus, eating rugs, white letters…

_**IMPORTANT NOTE: EPILOGUE BEING WORKED ON CURRENTLY.**_

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Part 2 of 2

"Shibuya."

Yuuri jerked awake at the sound of his name. His eyes searched wildly--apparently the stress of the love letters had finally broken him.

"Shibuya, calm down." A warm hand ran across his cheeks, calming him immediately. Indefinitely, he was awake and looking but, and yet…

"Shibuya, I have some…not-so-pleasant news. Now, it's only temporary, but--"

"Why can't I see?"

Murata winced at the smothered fear in his Yuuri's voice—his? since when was Yuuri _his?—_How was he to explain this calmly to the maou?

"It's only temporary, Yuuri. You had overstressed and blacked out—Conrad had doun you in your chambers. You weren't breathing either, oddly enough…what had you so worked up, anyways?"

"These letter I've been getting…"

"Death threats?"

"No, nothing like that, really. Conrad told me they're love vetters, actually; from a guy…" Yuuri's voice gradually faded and lost its volume as his eyes dilated slowly. It was quite eerie, watching his ghostly blank eyes widen and stare into nothing. "I've been too scared to open them."

"And…you aren't…excited?"

Yuuri shook his head in a morose fashion. "I…it's just so strange! I mean, I…I just don't know. I'm tired of thinking. So very tired…" He flumped onto the mattress yet again, willing away the tears behind his strained eyes.

"Shibuya…"

"Nmmf." Choked was his voice, but still contained.

"Damnit, Shibuya. I'm your closest friend, aren't I?" Gradually, Murata's voice _rose_ in pitch—contradictory to Yuu-chan—as did his anger, too. "What has you so bothered? It has to be more than simply those letters…"

"It's…Conrad."

"Weller?"

"He…he said something strange and now I don't know what's happening anymore. It was almost kind of like…like he was confessing his love or something, and I just…I don't know what to do. I'm only one kid, and barely that, even." Yuuri's empty eyes stared vacantly into his darkness, Murata's heart constricting in return

"Yuuri, please…" Whispering softly, Ken shifted closer to the other teen, "You'll never recover from your fear…" he let his fingers smoothly glide over Yuuri's own, "…unless you face it. There is nothing worse than being governed and ruled by your fears."

**_ooooooo_**

"Sun light, sun bright, will you not snuff for me tonight?" Yuuri lay on his balcony, complaining to the hot sunset mockingly. The maou inside him had been ranting and raving and crashing into things on accident, in an attempt of garnering Yuuro's attentions, but he stayed firm and ignored.

"Damnit, you…! You can't ignore me forever, Shibuya."

"Watch me. I so can. And I'm tired of your trying to act like you're a so freaking high and mighty, damnit!" He realized, vaguely, how absurd he must look to 'normal' people (if such a person existed in his Mazoku-land): speaking in loud tones and arguing with himself.

Lately, the maou part had been awfully gripy and bitchy to Yuuri, complaining about how the boy was 'denser than a mule's ass' and 'so fucking oblivious, he wouldn't even notice if he were being raped' and other such raunchy insults.

"If you don't open those letters, I'll take over—by force."

_That_ stopped Yuuri dead in his…pace. "You wouldn't." But he did not wish to test the maou's apparent wrath.

Begrudgingly, he hopped—or more like slowly crawled slower than a slug's pace—off the ledge of his balcony, to his carpeted chambers. He stood still as stone momentarily, but the maou murmured angrily, "Go!" and gave a mental push.

Yuuri took a **step.**

"Those letters won't open themselves, Yuuri. Don't you wish to know who your secret admirer is?"

Of course he did! He just…

"That's it, I'm taking over."

"Wait, no--!" Too late! His consciousness was already trickling quickly into the recesses of his mind; he could feel his grip on the here and now, steadily fading into blackness.

Dizzily, the maou-Yuuri, stood up from where his container had fallen. He gave a wry grin, considering remodeling the bleak—but very ornate—room, yet Yuuri's yells and protests deterred him. He cackled evilly, head thrown back and hands on hips in such a girly fashion it was almost a sin to see it on the maou.

"Ah, to be free…!" He sniggered a the thought of his subordinates walking in—fearful and alarmed at his prescence, as he was usually only called in times of great anger and frustration.

Arrogance forgotten, he dropped the joyful and rather insane grin, instead for one of complete determination. He glared balefully at the lump of clothes covering the entrance to the "secret room", reminding himself to take over more often and clean this wreckage of a chambers.

He had just begun to comb through the linens and mounds and towers of clothing, when who else but Wolfram entered the scene. "Shibuya, you simply must take me back as your…" his voice faltered and faded off as the chloroform spread through his body, swiftly knocking him out.

The maou breathed a sigh of relief. He mumbled a quiet apology and shoved the blonde onto the bed, envelope in hand.

**_ooooooo_**

Yuuri—the _real_ Yuuri, awoke some hours later, facing an array of shocked servants and workers. Confusedly, he opened his mouth to ask a simply "What's the time?" but wwat came _out_ was "What's the fuck?"

"Your Majesty, you are…yourself?"

"Uh…yeah. I mean, the asshole took over my body and I kind of zonked out after a while, but…yeah."

The mazoku around him released a loud breath of relief. Günter stood off to the side, thanking a mazoku's deity whilst Conrad simply smiled in an all-too-knowing manner.

"So…" Yuuri began again, "what happened?"

A sudden ominous force of fear presented itself, and Conrad ushered all who were not closely acquainted with the boy out of his chambers. He breathed deeply, head resting against the door.

"Conrad?"

"Yes?"

"Did I…do something?" Yuuri worried far too easily, and it was much more intense with the obvious lack of sight.

"Not exactly. You—or should I say, you 'other'--knocked out Wolfram with chloroform and took many of your secret love letters, so to speak."

_That asshat!_ "Where did he stash them?"

"Gehenna knows."

"What of Wolfram?"

"He is resting."

"And Murata?"

"That…is the difficulty we are facing, Majesty…" he sighed again, and moved over to the edge of Yuuri's bed, preparing to give him some rather…unorthodox information; after all, such things as these usually did not occur in Yuuri's own time and world.

"After your other took the letter supposedly—it was an unconfirmed report, and there are next to no leads—he was seen sneaking throughout the castle. We thought nothing of it, until Wolfram was found dead asleep on your bed covers."

"But he wasn't hurt, right?" Yuuri's eyes gave no emotion, but his voice betrayed all his worry.

"No, but…when we found Wolfram, the castle was alerted of your other's presence, causing it to go into a state of complete anarchy and uproar. They feared that they may be in danger; however, by that time, he…"

Yuuri's voice cracked on a note. "Y…eah?"

"Murata came to us, saying he had been 'claimed'."

"Oh, that's all?" Yuuri asked, as if it were completely _normal_ for people to be 'claimed' at random opportunities, "We can just fix that, right? Null the contract, and--"

"Yuuri, claiming is well…mating. Your other claimed Murata as his own. It cannot be undone."

"Yuuri you must face the truth of the matter: Murata is now your lover, so to speak, and he will be for the rest of your life and reign."


End file.
